Lost in Translation
by Finfinfin1
Summary: While waiting in Imladris after the Council of Elrond Legolas has a confusing encounter with one enraged Dwarf. Just what has he done to upset him? Why is it all he has to show for his generosity is a pile of broken arrows? Aragorn's first attempt at improving communication between Dwarf and Elf.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All Tolkiens, Not Mine.**

 **Authors Note: I have always wondered just how well Legolas knew all the languages rattling round in his head. It appears my Legolas does not know Westron very well at all!**

There is nothing I hate more than waiting.

It eats into my time and destroys it, it forces me to stillness, it bores me.

Waiting in Imladris, I find, is even more tedious for there is nothing to do here. The world passes by in a stilted, artificial way that grates on the soul. No action, no danger, Nothing. I know my father looks with deep resentment upon Elrond and his ring of power, why do Elrond's people deserve protection and his own do not he thinks, he sees it as an insult. But I have decided it is a blessing, I would not change one blade of grass of my wild, exotic homeland for the pristine perfection that exists here. I miss the trees, the glades, the haphazardness of it all. I even miss the heavy weight of threat that dogs me there, not a day exists that I do not wake and wonder if I may end that day in Mandos' Halls. There is no chance of that happening here. It should be a relief, but in fact has made every day without interest.

Waiting in Imladris is no fun at all.

I am attempting to amuse myself fletching arrows for my journey home when the dwarf approaches me. I am aggrieved that Elrond will not let me leave. I have said my piece, delivered my message and now I should be off. Back to my people who need me. We do not all have the luxury of time Elrond has, hiding here in his bolt hole.

I sense the dwarvish presence long before he reaches me, and lift my head from my work to watch him. His face is grim and determined, he is obviously on a mission and it appears it involves me. Why that would be I do not know, but then I know hardly anything about him, nor do I want to. My previous contact with dwarves has not filled me with any desire to learn more about them, on the contrary, I would be quite happy if I never saw another dwarf again.

He draws to a stop in front of me, and speaks. It is Westron he uses, the one language we share, but with his accent it sounds different from the Westron my tutors taught me, and from that spoken by the lake men I usually converse with. I am not that good at understanding it at the best of times, I get muddled as I translate the words to Silvan in my head. They all speak it so fast. The way the dwarf says the words makes them almost unintelligible.

"We should let bygones be bygones elf." He says abruptly, at least that is what I think he said, it is what I heard, although it makes no sense to me.

What is a bygone? It is a word I have never heard before, an animal perhaps? A dwarven word for goblin? I run through the options in my head. Some kind of weapon? Does he think I have been touching his bygones for it seems he is warning me to leave them alone. He must have mistaken me for someone else.

I sit and stare as I contemplate his meaning. It would not do to get this wrong and create a scene in the middle of Imladris, but I will not let myself be accused of something I have not done.

He holds his hand out to me as if he wants something from me and I am not sure why but it is clear that he is expectant. Am I supposed to give him a gift? a token to apologise for what ever it is he thinks has happened with these bygones he is so concerned about?

I look around me anxiously then for I have nothing to give him and to give nothing is obviously going to cause offence. There is the dagger I am using but even in Imladris there is no way I am going to hand a dagger to a dwarf and it is my very best anyway, a gift from my father, he cannot have that.

My eyes alight on my pile of arrows, they are all I have and truly they are fine arrows indeed. I do not like to boast but I am skilled when it comes to fletching. Surely even a dwarf will be able to appreciate the workmanship.

I pick out the very best from the top of the pile and slowly, gently, place it in his hand.

There is a second, then, that I think I have done the right thing as he gazes at it wide eyed, but it is only the briefest of moments before he erupts in anger.

"What is this? A threat? I come offering peace and you suggest war! I should have known you would only insult me."

He kicks out with his feet and sends my neat and tidy pile of arrows flying, stamping deliberately on several as he does so.

"This is what I think of your insult." He cries and he snaps my offering, my beautiful arrow, in two and throws it on the ground in disgust before he storms away.

"You are just like your father," he spits over his shoulder in parting and it leaves me even more confused than before, for my father is a great man, to be compared to him, an honor, and he is wrong, I am nothing like him, I fall far short. But the dwarf is clearly angry so why does he attempt to compliment me?

I give up trying to understand him and stare at my arrows in dismay, for there is hours of work here now scattered in a mess of destruction across the grass. Why did I ever try to communicate with a dwarf?

"What did you do to offend him?" The voice startles me out of my reverie. It is the man, Aragorn, the one they say is Isildur's heir.

At least he speaks Sindarin although it is with the heavily affected Imladrian accent I find so condescending. Why does he assume I did anything? Why must it be me who is in the wrong? He does not trust me...does not trust my people, he made that quite apparent during Elrond's council. I must admit I only heard but a fraction of that council, it was too long, too much discussing endlessly around the same subject to hold my attention, but I remember the accusation he threw at us. I will not forget that.

So I say nothing. To my mind he does not deserve a response, instead silently I kneel and begin the slow process of sorting the arrows, those that have survived unscathed from those which are damaged or broken beyond repair.

I am surprised when, without a word, he joins me on the ground, aiding me in my task. We continue in silence for a while, neither speaking, both of us working, when it comes to me, perhaps he can explain this to me?

"What is a bygone?" I ask him, I use the Westron word the dwarf used for I do not know it's Sindarin equivalent.

He leans back on his heels and looks at me intently,

"That is a strange question."

"The dwarf wished me to leave his alone. But I have not been near him, he must be mistaken, unless I have harmed them unknowingly?"

He is thinking, I can tell that yet I cannot read his eyes.

"What did he say to you? Tell me what he said, as exactly as you can."

"He said, we must let bygones be bygones. Well I am hardly going to try and change them when I do not know what they are! Are they some kind of animal?"

Aragorn smiles then, and it changes his grim face dramatically. Before my eyes he becomes almost unrecognisable from the stern ranger I have seen before now.

"He means what has happened in the past must stay in the past. What quarrels there are between your peoples should not come between the two of you. A bygone, you could say, is a hurt from long ago that has never been forgotten."

I am astonished.

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure. That is exactly what he meant."

"Is that why he wished for a gift then? A peace offering? A sign of my goodwill?"

Aragorn's brows meet in the middle of his forehead as he frowns,

"He asked you for a gift?"

I think on it carefully, what exactly had he done?

"He did not ask but he wanted one I think. He held out his hand. He was waiting for something from me."

"And what did you do then?"

"I had nothing to give him!" I hold out my hands to show how empty they are. "I only had my arrows and so I gave him one of them. They are well crafted, I thought they would do well enough. What choice did I have?"

The smile then becomes a laugh,

"He suggested bygones be bygones and you gave him an arrow! Legolas, he would have assumed you threw back his goodwill in his face, He will have seen that as a challenge. No wonder your arrows came to such a violent end here in the dust!"

And suddenly I can see how that might be true. To be brave enough to offer peace and have me give a weapon of war in return. No wonder I raised his ire.

"I did not know!" I cry and try to defend myself for I do not want this mortal to think that I am uneducated. "I understand Westron but his accent is so thick...and I have never heard that word before, we do not use it. What should I have done then? Given him nothing... surely that would have been just as insulting?"

"All he wished was for you to shake his hand."

I remember then, the strange rituals of the Lakemen. The way they needed this physical contact at the end of negotiation to seal a deal. They insisted we all shake their hands then too. It makes no sense to me really, but my father has attempted to explain it to me. He says they cannot touch our fea, they cannot discern our goodwill through the spirit and so they need this strange physical connection instead. So _that_ was what the dwarf wished for. A handshake to seal his deal. Why had I not thought of that. Now this Man would think me completely naive,

"Ah..." I say quickly, "I have heard of that. It slipped my mind."

He stands then, the smile lingering on his face.

"Well I am pleased to have been some assistance. If you need any help with translation in the future do not hesitate to ask."

I wonder why he thinks I will be seeing him in the future at all, for I will return to the forest and he will surely go wherever the One Ring goes, but I let that slide.

"Your help was much appreciated," I call after him as he strides off, and I bend down over my arrows once again. I will be all afternoon fixing this mess. Now, I suppose I must go to the dwarf and apologise for my unintended insult. I do not relish doing that. Perhaps I can let it go, I think, for when Elrond finally releases me it is highly unlikely I will ever see that dwarf again.

My father will never find out, and he will not mind me insulting a dwarf anyway.

It is then I remember the dwarf thought me to be like my father. Despite the arrow he still wished to pay me compliments. He must not have been as offended as all that after all.

I think I will ignore this entire incident then for I would not wish to cause him embarrassment by resurrecting it. I smile to myself as I think of my solution.

I will simply make sure to thank him graciously for his compliment this evening.

He is bound to find that most respectful and all will be well.

I take a moment to imagine the scene as I magnanimously ignore the damage he has done to my arrows and heap thanks upon him instead. All will see my regal good manners.

Perhaps I am not as bad at this communicating with dwarves business as I thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: So this has turned into more than one chapter. For all of you who wanted to see how Legolas' generous thanking of Gimli went...here you are...**

 **Earthdragon, my guest reviewer I couldn't respond to, now you can be a fly on the wall!**

 **Unbeta'd so apologies for grammer.**

 **P.S. Not sure why Glorfindel has turned out so grumpy in this story, I guess he can't be perfect all the time.**

 **Aragorn**

It is dinner time and I am early. Time to sit and observe the unusual collection of guests we have in Imladris at present. Dwarves, Hobbits, Men, it is a rare occurrence for us to have such diversity here. Wood elves too, how could I have forgotten the Woodelf, Thranduil's son. An elf and yet not an elf as I know them, and I had, up until now, thought I knew them well.

I watch him as he makes his way across the cluttered hall, winding past the myriad of people. He seems determined, focused on something, and it takes me a few moments to realise it is the dwarf, Gimli, who has his attention. I wonder why? I stumbled across an altercation between them this morning and I thought Legolas might have steered clear of him tonight, not deliberately sought him out. Something tells me this might not end well, and I _know_ it will not when he comes to a halt in front of Gimli and speaks.

"Dwarf."

I wince at the abruptness of it, 'Use his name, Legolas,' I think to myself, then I realise, he probably doesn't even know it. I remember Legolas' confusion this morning, his complete misunderstanding of a simple communication and I wonder if perhaps I should intervene here, but I am far away and already seated. It would be too obvious if I rose to join them now.

"What do you want _Elf_?" Gimli responds with bluntness of his own. I can see he has not forgotten nor forgiven Legolas' earlier transgression.

"Have you come to apologise for your insult this morning? For if not, I have nothing to say to you."

Legolas tilts his head and I see the slightest frown upon his face.

"I meant to thank you," he says.

Gimli's obvious confusion at that statement matches my own for what has Legolas to give him thanks for? He left him with a trail of destructed arrows I know would have taken hours to repair.

"What do you have to thank me for?" Gimli asks, "Unless it is pointing out your rudeness and bad manners?"

But Legolas returns his confusion with a bright smile, one that dazzles with its brilliance, but what follows is his undoing.

"I am overlooking the damage you did to my mornings work..."He is gracious and magnanimous in his forgiveness but the look on Gimli's face is one of disbelief,

"...and I thank you for your compliments. I wished you to know they were much appreciated." Legolas puts his fist to his chest and bows quickly, a sign of respect I know, but I fear is he being sarcastic, for Gimli will have paid him no compliments, I am sure of it. What is he thinking, here in the middle of the hall in front of us all? He must know Gimli will react aggressively to his sarcasm. Does he goad him intentionally?

Sure enough the response from the dwarf is sudden and fiery; he is not amused.

"Compliments?" Gimli roars, as he stands to face Legolas,

"I paid you no compliments and nor will I ever, for a ruder elf I have never met. It is clear the apple does not fall far from the tree!"

Legolas' face crumples into confusion. I saw that same look when explaining the Dwarf's Westron peace offering this morning. I do not know what he intended when he started this discussion but it is clear to me now it was not to insult. Unfortunately however, insult he has.

"If the wind is strong it might," he replies, and I wonder what on earth he means, until I realise he takes Gimli's talk of apples and trees literally. I have tarried too long watching this comedy of errors and it is about to turn tragic. I push back my chair to stand but I am too late and the Dwarf is enraged.

I can only watch horrified as he launches himself at Legolas and now, suddenly, here in the hall we have a brawl unfolding before our eyes. Elrond is on his feet as is Gandalf, but they, like myself, are too far away and the wrong side of the table to prevent it. Glorfindel is not however; he has just entered the hall and a few quick strides takes him to the heart of the matter. Crowds clear as if by magic in front of him, for you do not linger in the path of the Balrog Slayer when he is angry, and angry he most certainly is.

He has Legolas by the collar before I can blink and Gimli's father holds the dwarf back, flailing fists and all.

"Cease this!" He cries to his son, "I will not have you lower yourself to the level of Thranduil's son."

Legolas struggles at that, his confusion has gone and the look upon his face is now one of pure fury. He looks truly angry, a feral, untamed creature who is as wild as the Noldor accuse his people of being. But Glorfindel holds him tight and he cannot get away.

"Compose yourself Thranduillion." Glorfindel hisses. "I do not know how Thranduil has raised you but this is not how we conduct ourselves in civilised society!" Legolas flinches at that, his cheeks flame red, but at least he stops his struggling and Glorfindel drags him away from the Dwarf, across the front of the room to stand beside my chair. We all breathe a sigh of relief that the two of them are separated.

"At least what little sense Oropher had he used to keep his foolishness on the battlefield." Glorfindel's voice is low but still we all hear his insult, and I watch as Legolas' face drains of all colour, his eyes are wide and staring.

"Keep him under control Aragorn." Glorfindel turns to me as he pushes Legolas into the empty seat beside me. "For all our sakes see if you can ensure he behaves."

This is the last thing I want; why does he have to choose me?

"Glorfindel, you go too far." Gandalf's tone lets us all know of his displeasure. "You should choose your words more carefully." He has a soft spot for Legolas and we all know it, though several do not understand why.

"And you, perhaps, should take more care with your favourites for it is obvious this child is not fit for anything outside of his wood. I do not know why I am surprised at that for I shouldn't be." Glorfindel snaps as he strides away towards his seat beside Elrond.

And I am left with Legolas.

He sits beside me, shoulders slumped and he does not look at me, he does not so much as spare me a glance, or any of the rest of us. He stares instead at the table in front of him.

"What on earth were you trying to do?" I lean towards him and whisper, I mean only to understand the reason for his confusion, for I am sure whatever he intended it was not such a public disagreement. Perhaps, however, my words end up sounding accusatory for he does not react well.

"Why do you think it is any of your business?" he snaps at me with all the ire I am sure he wishes he could pour on Glorfindel and the Dwarf and I am left in no doubt our conversation, such as it was, is at an end.

He says nothing more and I do not try again but let him eat in silence, not that he eats at all, but instead prods at his food, each stab more aggressive than the last. He is angry and hurt and I cannot help him. He would not allow it even if I knew how. I wish I understood the workings of his mind.

In the end he leaves at his first opportunity, head in the air, back ramrod straight, a slight nod of the head to Elrond and he is gone. I am filled with regret watching him depart for I feel, perhaps, we are all missing something here.

Evening finds us closeted in Elrond's study discussing, once again, the much argued over Elven representative on the Fellowship. I have almost given up any hope of an agreement and have caught myself thinking that perhaps it would be preferable to go without any Elves at all.

"It is clear, after this evenings demonstration, we cannot consider Legolas at all." Glorfindel say haughtily, his words directed at Gandalf who has argued strongly for Legolas' inclusion from the beginning, much to the confusion of the rest of us.

"The only thing that is clear," Gandalf answers, "is that you are exceptionally heavy handed Glorfindel." Gandalf is in a bad mood and I am sure the public brawl in the Great Hall has not helped matters.

Glorfindel bristles with indignation but before he can launch into a tirade that will surely make matters worse Elrond sighs heavily and intervenes, I think he is as sick of this discussion as I am.

"You must admit Gandalf, It is apparent Legolas and Gimli travelling together will be a disaster. I know you think well of him..."

"He is our best option, his youthful enthusiasm will serve us well." Gandalf is not to be swayed, "and he is well used to fighting and resisting the dark. You forget I will be there to keep him and the dwarf under control."

"There are other, better choices," Glorfindel intervenes, "For goodness sake Elrond send one of the twins if you will not send me." There lies the heart of Glorfindel's vehement objections to Legolas. He wishes very much to go on this mission himself but I find myself agreeing with Gandalf in this, I worry about the influence of the ring on a Noldor Lord as powerful as Glorfindel and he will draw the Nazgul to us like a beacon.

"The Twins will not go, not now at least." Elrond raises his voice, "I have said all I will on that." He has been adamant about that from the very beginnings of our discussion. I do not think he seeks to protect his sons, on the contrary, but he has had some kind of portent or omen concerning their involvement. He refuses to enlighten us on this and it causes Glorfindel much frustration, and myself too if I am honest, for it would be their company I would wish for beyond all others on this journey.

It is then I decided to speak up, I do not often contribute to these meetings, preferring to let them argue amongst themselves about Elven politics but that feeling of regret I have from dinner still lingers, I cannot shake the worry we do Legolas a disservice.

"I do not believe Legolas meant to disrespect the Dwarf this evening." I say, "Perhaps it was a misunderstanding-"

"Do not tell me you are falling under the Woodelfs spell as well Estel!" Glorfindel interrupts me with disbelief.

But Gandalf leaps upon my words with enthusiasm.

"Indeed," he exclaims, "All is not always as it seems. We should give him a chance to explain himself. Does he not deserve a hearing?"

"All is exactly as it seems. The boy is uncultured and impolite. The best you could say is he does not know how to conduct himself politely." Glorfindel will not be swayed but Elrond is more forgiving.

"What do you say Estel?" He asks me, "Shall we hear him out?"

"Likely he will simply embarrass himself yet again." Glorfindel mutters beneath his breath and it is enough to cause Gandalf's fine control over his temper to break.

"Open your eyes Glorfindel!" He cries, "Do not allow yourself to be so bound by past prejudices!"

And Elrond ignores them both,

"Estel?" He asks me, "You have been too quiet until now, What is your opinion?"

All eyes turn to me and to be pinned under the weight of so many elven eyes is not a pleasant feeling, even though I am well used to it.

"Estel?" He prods further when I am slow to answer, for I am unsure, Glorfindel's arguments, for all his prejudice, are valid, Legolas is young, untried, and a mystery. This is all too important to risk throwing a volatile unknown into the mix. I already have Boromir to deal with.

And yet my misgivings about taking him at face value are still with me. Gandalf is wise, what is it he sees in him?

And so eventually I speak.

"I would like to hear from him." I say, "I would like to see what Legolas has to say about his actions this evening."

Perhaps he will prove us all wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: To my guest reviewer Earthdragon, Thank you for your wonderful, thought provoking review! It was much appreciated.**

 **And here we see Legolas is not about to take this all lying down!**

Legolas is nervous and I don't blame him. We are a rather intimidating gathering and he knows he does not stand here for congratulations or praise. He fiddles with his sleeves, eyes darting around the room, around us all. All of us, that is, but Glorfindel, towards Glorfindel he does not look. It is as if he is not there at all. I feel Legolas' gaze slide across me until, he settles, not on Elrond but on Gandalf. I imagine it feels to him as if Gandalf is his only friend here in this room. He could be right in that.

"Legolas," Elrond's voice is stern but at the same time gentle. He must see the nervousness and he is not without understanding.

"Do you understand why you are here?"

I watch as Legolas then sets his jaw and lifts up his chin to meet Elrond's gaze.

"You seek to rebuke me for this evenings altercation," he says bluntly, "and rightly so for I bought shame upon my father's name. I would have you know he expects better from me." he pauses to think, but then it is as if he decides against whatever it was he wanted to say, he swallows the words down, puts them aside and instead he apologises.

"I am sorry, My Lord, for my behaviour. It will not happen again."

Elrond gazes at him for sometime in silence, as if he measures his worth and I wonder what he sees. The silence stretches on beyond what is polite and into the uncomfortable and in the end it is Legolas who breaks it.

"I wonder though," he says, "Why I am called to account for myself amidst such illustrious company and not simply yourself. Is it necessary for all here to witness my punishment?"

At that he looks at me and I do not blame him, from his perspective why am I here unless it is simply to cause him more embarrassment? I am, however, surprised he has the courage to say it.

"We have not called you here as a punishment Legolas." It is Gandalf and he speaks with a gentleness he usually reserves for the Hobbits.

"We wished to give you an opportunity to explain yourself. Aragorn believes all was not as it seemed this evening."

Legolas stares at me then, eyes wide in surprise. I am unsure what has caused it, that I might understand he did not mean his words as they appeared, or that I give him support in the first place?

"Can you tell us why you chose to approach the dwarf?" Elrond asks and Legolas' shoulders slump.

"I meant to thank him. It will be obvious to you that did not go as I planned."

"Thank him?" Gandalf leans forward in his chair his eyebrows meeting in the middle,

"What would you have to thank him for? Is it not true that he destroyed your property this afternoon?"

"That is true but it was a misunderstanding about ...we ..., I ..." He trails off and looks to me in desperation.

"It was a problem with language," I say quickly, "Legolas and Gimli were not understanding each other, there was no fault on either side I believe." I hear Glorfindel mutter at that beside me but just this once I ignore him.

"He was angry with me and yet he still paid me a compliment," Legolas continues, "I thought it should not go unacknowledged. It was that I wished to thank him for."

"A compliment?" I can not help myself for I am astonished at that. "It did not look like he was complimenting you when I saw him Legolas!"

"I know," Legolas turns to me in earnest, "It surprised me too."

"Just what compliment did he give you boy?" Gandalf stares at him intently, "because in my experience, and it is quite extensive, dwarves are not given to complimenting Thranduil's folk at all. What on earth did he say?"

"He told me I was like my father."

There is an abrupt splutter from Elrond at that, and his hand flies to cover his face, to conceal the smile that lies behind and smother the laughter threatening to escape. There is the briefest grin on my face too, I cannot help myself, and Glorfindel does not even try to hide his mirth at that statement.

"That is an insult, not a compliment!" he laughs.

But Legolas does not think it is funny. His face is tight with barely concealed fury at our merriment.

I feel a pang of remorse when I see that, for we laugh at him. It is uncalled for and hurtful, no matter how amusing his statement.

"Elrond!" Gandalf hisses under his breath, "Control yourself."

If I were not in the midst of rebuking myself for my laughter I would find that entertaining, Gandalf keeping Elrond in line.

"It _is_ a compliment," Gandalf continues, speaking directly to Glorfindel as he does so, "A compliment of the highest standing, but I fear, Legolas, the dwarf did not mean it as such. He does not, after all know your father as I know him and as you do. He sees only that face your father shows the outside world. As do others here. It is their loss."

He leans back, folds his arms and fixes Glorfindel with a look that is enough to freeze you in your seat. Glorfindel does not flinch. Glorfindel never flinches.

"I understand." Legolas pours all his attention upon Gandalf now and it is to him and him alone that he speaks. "I suppose-" his voice drops low and is filled with unhappiness, "I suppose I must apologise then for it seems all I do is insult people when I do not intend it."

A look of alarm passes as quick as a flash between Elrond and Gandalf.

"Perhaps you should not be apologising to the dwarf without someone accompanying you," Gandalf interjects, "I will go with you, I think, as an interpreter. We would not wish this to deteriorate any further. That would be most unfortunate."

And finally the Legolas' simmering anger flares,

"I am not a child who needs his hand held!"

"I do not think you a child, Legolas." Gandalf replies firmly, "If that was true I would not have put your name forward for this venture."

It is Elrond's turn to hiss in disapproval now for Legolas does not know, and is not supposed to know we discuss him to accompany the ring bearer, especially when we are so divided over his inclusion. Gandalf speaks out of turn and now the cat is out of the bag...we shall have to explain. Legolas himself stops mid retort, eyes wide in shock.

"You put my name forward for what?" He swivels from Ganadlf to Elrond.

"You put my name forward for what my Lord?" he repeats.

If it were possible for Elrond to look shifty I would say he does now and it is the first time in all my years I have seen it.

"We are discussing the Elven member to go with Frodo and the Ring, Legolas." He says eventually and it is as if the words have been squeezed from him. He does not wish to divulge this but Gandalf has forced his hand. I wonder then if Gandalf's slip was not so much unintentional and more a deliberate part of his plan. I would not put it past him.

Legolas gasps softly in response. It is obvious he has not considered this to be a possibility at all, and why would he. For a second he is floored, he did not expect this when he was called here. It does not take him long to gather himself however and I am impressed with his composure. I have met Thranduil, albeit briefly and to say he left an impression on me is an understatement. As Legolas draws himself up in front of Elrond, he seems for a moment, no longer the uncertain young elf awash in a world of cultural difference, he seems every inch his father's son.

"And when were you thinking to tell me this?" he asks, " Do I not have the right to know what it is you plan for me? Perhaps you should ask if I am willing before you discuss my weaknesses ... as I am sure you have been doing." At that, for the first time, he glares at Glorfindel.

If Elrond is surprised by this response he hides it well. He ignores Legolas' questions as if he had not even asked them. He will not explain himself. Instead he is on the attack and I wonder how Legolas will deal with this.

"You can see why your behaviour this evening concerns us." he says and his tone is cutting. "There is no point us considering your inclusion if you cannot cooperate with the dwarf, even here, in Imladris. Can you travel with him Legolas, and not tear the Fellowship apart?"

Legolas does not even pause though and I find myself impressed with his courage as he stands here, with us lined up against him. He meets Elrond's eyes which is something I struggle to achieve myself, after all these years, when he is angry.

"You suggest I cannot work for the good of my company? You think I have not travelled and fought with those who do not like me before? You think I would undermine a mission as important as this for my own personal feelings?" He is all indignation and Glorfindel cannot resist taking a shot, He does not see the courage and fortitude that I see, he thinks him impertinent, I can tell.

"You have given us no reason to think otherwise." He snaps, "Even now you do not answer Lord Elrond's question, can you be trusted to travel with the dwarf or not?"

But Legolas keeps his eyes on Elrond, he does not rise to Glorfindel's bait. The years of standing before Thranduil have obviously taught him well. He can keep his temper in check when he needs to and it is an eye opener. There is nothing he has done during his time in this room that has not impressed me greatly.

"I ask you," he says to Elrond, chin up, eyes flashing, "Have you asked this question of the dwarf? Can _he_ travel with _me?"_

And Elrond is undone for we have not...and we should have. It is not often I have seen him bested.

"We have not." he has no option but to admit it., "We will be recitifying that Legolas."

Legolas turns to Gandalf then, I can still see his face, his fire has receded. He seems then, young and alone.

"You should have told me this." he says, voice soft and low, "I am not a pawn for you to play with. I have people who depend upon me, there is much I have to consider before I could accept this even if you did choose me. How do you expect me to be able to conduct myself as you so obviously wish, in this foreign place, when I do not have such important information. You are wrong in this."

And Gandalf is shamefaced, for Legolas is right. We have all wronged him, judging his every move when he has been unaware what it is we plan for him.

He does not give us a chance to apologise, although I sincerely wish to, for my part. Instead he chooses to extract himself from our presence, he bows swiftly to Elrond, all regal politeness.

"Please excuse me," he says, "You have given me much to think on My Lord." and turns to leave, not waiting for Elrond to give him permission. But at the very instant of leaving he pauses, he reaches a decision and plows on before he can gainsay himself.

"I would have a word with Lord Glorfindel if I may?" he asks and Elrond responds with a nod, and a look of surprise for after tearing our superiority to shreds is Legolas now planning to apologise?

That is certainly what Glorfindel expects as he leans back in his seat, arms behind his head and a look of condescension on his face.

"Of course you can boy," he smiles, preparing himself for the obvious, ensuing contrition.

Legolas moves to stand before him but he does not drop his head in shame and respect as Glorfindel expects...as we all expect. Instead his head is high, as he leans forward, for the first time since he has entered the room, looking Glorfindel in the eye. His voice is cold when he speaks, like ice that cuts slashes across the souls of those who listen. There is no doubting his parentage at this moment, that imposing haughtiness in the face of adversity could only have come from Thranduil.

"You know nothing about my Grandfather, nothing at all." The words flow across the table with undisguised hostility,

"It was wrong of you to slander him in public to score points against me."

Then he turns on his heels and leaves, without a backward glance at any of us, and we are speechless for no one...no one...tells Glorfindel his pedigree like that, no matter how well deserved. Glorfindel is red faced and stammering in his wake, so unused to public criticism is he. Disapproval from Elrond is one thing, but from a small Woodelf unknown to us all, quite another.

And so we stare at each other in shock until Erestor breaks our silence from his seat, taking notes, in the corner.

"Gimli is right then." he says quietly and matter of factly, " The apple does not fall far from the tree." But he says it with admiration, not scorn, and it is Gandalf's turn to laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

I have retreated to the trees. It is where I think best and after last night I have a lot to think about.

They discuss sending me with the Fellowship, to represent all elves. _Me,_ Legolas son of Thranduil, Sindar/Silvan chosen ahead of any of the Noldor. It would be unheard of if it happened, but even so I do not know what I should do, if it comes to it and they choose me, do I accept?

I wish my father were here for me to speak to. I wish I could be sure of his thoughts, I need his guidance in this for it feels beyond me to make this decision. But he is far away and asking his advice would take too long. I have to make up my own mind and I know it, but how I miss him.

Still perhaps I worry about nothing for they have found me wanting, that much was obvious last night. Gandalf aside, they think me unsuitable. The chances of them selecting me must be remote at best. I am sure losing my temper with the great Lord Glorfindel did not help my chances, but I have to admit it felt so very good.

I have been hidden up here for hours running my thoughts through my brain, over and over, the same arguments, the same reasons, when I am startled by a noise from the ground below. Two people walk towards me, one a Man, and one, I think, an elf. It is with caution I lean out to see them and when I do catch a glimpse I press myself back amongst the leaves as quickly as is possible. I do not wish them to discover me. It is the Man, Aragorn, and with him walks one of the Sons of Elrond.

I am confident the Man will not sense me even though I know he is ranger trained and one of their best. A ranger will not find a woodelf in the trees, but the Peredhel? I am not aware of their abilities and he is Galadriel's grandchild. Long has my father warned me of her. Still they are too close, I have no option but to try and hide and hope he doesn't notice me, the trees will help me when they know I wish it.

As luck would have it they pause and settle themselves beneath a tree down the path from me. They have come to talk and although I know I should not, I cannot help but listen.

"So they will not let me go," Elrond's son says with much bitterness. "I cannot believe they chose that uncivilised woodelf. Have they lost their minds? Did they not see his behaviour last night?"

I catch my breath, is this right? They have chosen...and they have chosen me? I can hardly hear their next words over the hammering of my heart.

"It is as if Father is punishing us but I do not know for what," he continues and picks up a stone near his feet, throwing it with furious aggression to crack against the trunk of my tree. For a moment I think he has sensed me and the stone is meant for me, but it seems not for I have no doubt he would have hit me if it were.

I watch as Aragorn reaches out for his hands and holds them still, preventing a hailstorm of pebbles descending on me.

"I admit if I had my choice it would be you or Elrohir I would wish for, Brother," he says and my heart sinks at that. He does not want me either and I had thought, last night, that perhaps he was on my side. I do not know him, I do not yet trust him, but I think I could like him. It hurts he did not choose me. But, I remind myself, he has grown up amongst these Noldor, the Peredhel twins consider themselves his brothers, of course he prefers them.

"Still I think he is a good choice. When it was obvious Elrond would not consider you, I argued for his inclusion."

So I was not wrong. He did side with me!

"Are you mad? He is uncontrollable, Estel. How will you manage him?"

Despite telling myself I do not care what they think, these Noldor, it hurts to hear myself described thus. It hurts for my own sake but also my father's for they judge him by what they think of me. It is unfair.

But Aragorn simply laughs,

"You sound like Glorfindel now Elladan. You exaggerate. I will not need to control him, he is warrior, a fine one, if what Gandalf says is to be believed. He knows how to work with others, he knows how to put his own problems aside for the greater good. Do not let your disappointment cloud the way you see him."

But the Peredhel is reluctant to let go his bitterness,

"This is a dangerous task you undertake little brother. I do not trust him to look after your life."

"I look after my own life!" It is Aragorn's turn for annoyance. "You know nothing of him nor have you attempted to find out. He is strong, and agile, quick witted and lighthearted, and he does not lack for courage." At this he leans forward towards his brother, his face alight,

"You should have seen him last night when he confronted Glorfindel. I have never seen the like, it was magestic!"

A smile splits the face of Elrond's son at that and it transforms him, gone is his stern forbidding look, instead he is beautiful.

"I heard!" He exclaims, "Erestor told us. He was full of it, he said it was truly magnificent and Glorfindel did deserve it for he was out of line. I wish I could have seen it."

He leans back against the tree then, hands behind his head.

"You see!" Aragorn cries in triumph, "Legolas will surprise you if you take the time to know him. No one here would dare challenge Glorfindel like that."

They speak of other things then and it bores me. I am not interested in Noldor politics or the intriquicies of their family. Instead I let my mind wander, what will I do? Do I go on this journey, this fools errand, or do I refuse Elrond and return to my homeland where my own people await me?

Eventually Elrond's son bores of their discussion and rises to his feet.

"I am supposed to present myself to Father so he can tell me of this formally and I have kept him waiting long enough. Will you come?"

But Aragorn shakes his head,

"No, if you seek to take me with you to ease his ire at your lateness you are out of luck. I will stay here awhile I think!"

And he settles himself back to watch, a smile on his face as his brother reluctantly departs. I could wait, in my tree for him to go also, I am quite comfortable here, but I find I wish to speak with him. Perhaps he can help with my decision, and so I drop lightly to the path in front of him. It gives me pleasure to see him startle. He had no idea I was there.

"Legolas!" He frowns at me when he gains his composure, and attempts to get to his feet but I wave at him to stop and drop to sit beside him.

"What did you hear?" he asks, he is not happy with me.

"Everything that pertained to me. I am an elf after all." I say, "You should keep your voices lower if you wish to be more discrete."

"We did not expect people to be hiding in trees listening to our conversations."

"Ah," I smile, "If you are to be travelling with a Woodelf you need to get used to that."

"If I am to be travelling with a Woodelf," Aragorn scowls, "I expect him to make others aware of where he is!"

I shrug my shoulders in answer to that.

"You might not be travelling with one anyway." I say.

"Did you not hear me? I told Elladan you have been chosen."

"That does not mean I will accept. Did you not listen to me last night? I have other responsibilities. Just because Elrond wishes to send me does not mean I am free to go...or that I want to. I do not answer to him."

It is not what he expected me to say.

"You would turn your back on this?" He is astounded and a part of me is pleased to have surprised him so.

"You must see this is bigger than your petty squabbles!"

I turn on him then,

"What is petty exactly? That I was found wanting simply because I struggled to understand the dwarf? That they judged me from the moment I arrived here and only saw what they believed they would see all along? That I am expected to listen while they insult my father...and my grandfather? Why does Elrond not send his sons, why does he send Thranduil's son instead? Because I am disposable?"

This has worried me, that I am chosen simply because they will not miss me if I do not return. But my Father will, oh how he will miss me. For his sake I will not let them do that.

Aragorn does not fight back, instead he sighs.

"I do not know why he will not send the twins. You heard me tell my brother that. He has told none of us, but it will not be to spare them. He believes you are better suited. He chooses the best and he has agonised over this. You do not know him as I do, he has lost too many loved ones , he does not wish to cause your Father that same pain. Perhaps you are not the only one who has been a victim of prejudice here? Are you sure you are not guilty of it yourself?"

He leaves me speechless, which does not often happen. I say nothing in return, instead I fiddle with the leaves in front of me, but those last words burn across my mind. Have I been as prejudiced as they are?

He touches me then, gently, carefully, on my arm to get my attention.

"Promise me you will think on this carefully." He says, "I would value your company, we will not be as strong if you do not join us. This is bigger than Noldor and Sindar, it is bigger than Elrond and Thranduil, it is bigger than you and I."

"I cannot say I am not flattered," I say softly, and I stand in preparation to leave him, to think upon it some more on my own, when a question that has bothered me all night springs into my mind.

"You said I could come to you for help with translation..." I say cautiously,

"Of course," he leans towards me with a frown, "you have not been near Gimli again have you?"

"No!" I laugh out loud at that, "Gandalf has forbidden it, I was wondering though at his interest in horticulture. It does not seem very like a dwarf...and he wished for advice at a most peculiar time."

"I do not think Gimli has any interest in horticulture Legolas," he replies, "why would you think that?"

I throw my arms wide in frustration,

"Why then does he wish to comment on the trajectory of falling apples in the middle of an argument ?"

There is a pause then as Aragorn takes time to understand what it is that confuses me, but then he laughs, it is not a laugh of ridicule or scorn but one of joy that makes me smile also.

"He did not ask about apples Legolas, the tree is your Father, the apple is you! He thinks you are alike!"

"Can he not say what he thinks then?" I cry. "This journey will be very tiresome if he turns every request into a dissertation on trees!"

I turn to go then, striding across the grass towards the Great Hall for I find I am suddenly very hungry.

"So you will come then..." Aragorn calls out after me, "on our tiresome journey?"

"Perhaps..." I reply, I will not be seen to give in too easily,

"Perhaps it will prove to be amusing."

and I know he smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

It is the evening before we depart and I am alone. My travelling companions are all with their loved ones, the hobbits together, the dwarf with his father, Aragorn, rather scandalously, is with the Evenstar. It was a shock when I discovered _that_ piece of gossip. I do not know where Gandalf or the Man of Gondor are, but I do not wish for their company anyway.

And so I am by myself, for there are no loved ones here to farewell me. Instead I read a letter from my Father for it is he, I would wish to be with now and he is too far away. These words he has written me will have to suffice.

He writes of his love for me and his pride in me and I hope I can live up to it, whatever will happen to me on the journey ahead I hope I will face it with courage. I try not to think too hard on the fact the odds of success in this are low and I may not return, ever again to my wood.

"You should not be alone this evening."

The voice that filters through my thoughts, causing me to jump in surprise is not one I thought to hear, nor one that is even remotely welcome. In fact if there was someone here I didn't want to see it would be him.

"There is none here who would wish to say goodbye to me unless it would be to ensure I leave." I answer back,

" Nor is there anyone I want to see in any case."

I turn my back on him and return to my letter, hopefully he will get the hint and leave me alone.

Sadly for me, Glorfindel does not, instead, much to my horror, he sits himself beside me. If he were not right in front of me I would roll my eyes but I restrain myself, I think I may have pushed my luck far enough with the Balrog slayer as it is. Instead I try again to fob him off.

"If you care so much for preventing loneliness perhaps you should see to Boromir instead."

"No," he says casually, "he has plenty of company. Elrond has seen to it for he is not at ease here and we must make sure we are gracious hosts."

"Oh you are most gracious," I mutter under my breath. Why will he not leave me alone?

He ignores my comment and instead leans over, gesturing to my letter.

"What is it you read?" He says conversationally.

I snatch the letter away, far from his prying eyes. He has not earnt the right to to be privy to my Father's thoughts.

"That is my business," I snarl, more aggressively than I intended.

"Words from your Father, I presume."

He is completely calm, and does not rise to my rudeness. I stare then at the letter lying in my lap and despite myself, despite this being the worst possible moment, I find my eyes filling with tears. Why must I do this now, with him?

I feel the brush of his fea against mine, a wave of sympathy and I throw up my walls to shut him out. I do not need pity, and certainly not from him.

"You will see him again," He says quietly.

"I am not a child to be placated with fairy tales," I snap in response. "I know the chances of any of us returning from this are slim. I most likely will _not_ see him again and your empty words will not make it so."

I turn to glare at him as I speak and he returns my gaze but in his eyes there is no pity, only a challenge and he throws his arms wide.

"Am I not proof enough..." He says with a smile, "...that I do not tell you tales?

My mind must be slow today for it takes me awhile to understand his meaning, but eventually I do, for he alone of us here has returned from Mandos' halls and so he says to me, even if the worst possible fate befalls me, I can still return, all hope of seeing my father is not lost. It is strangely comforting.

He leans back then to lie upon the grass, hands behind his head as he gazes up at the stars.

"Tell me of your wood." He says, "for I have never been there and I am curious."

"My wood?" I am incredulous, "You mean the wood I am not fit to set foot out of?"

"Ah... I deserved that I think." he gives me a rueful smile.

"In my defence I can only say, I was angry to have been overlooked for this journey myself. It is a poor defence, I admit it."

"And so what has changed?"

I wonder why he is here with me, why this strange attempt at reconciliation and apology for it is clear now that is what this is.

"There are not many who would take me to task as you did. Though I did not enjoy it at the time, let's just say it has made me see things differently," he looks at me with what could almost be called affection, "It is obvious there is Oropher's blood in your veins."

I scowl then, when I was so close to letting down my guard, for what could that be but a thinly veiled insult? He sees my displeasure, how could he not, and is quick to justify his words this time.

"That is not a criticism," he says, "but a compliment."

But I do not believe him.

"You so obviously despise him. I am not sure how you think I could ever take that as a compliment from you. I have learnt my lesson on the falseness of words from the dwarf."

"I do not despise him," he replies, "I did not know him well enough to say that. He cared for his people, that much I know, and he had reason not to trust the Noldor. So he did not trust Gil-Galad when he should have, for Gil-Galad was not his father, or his grandfather. He was his own man. We need to open our eyes I think and not dwell in the past, but it is difficult to do for there is so very much past to dwell in. I am as guilty as Oropher, I think, for judging a son against his father when I should measure him by his own worth."

Something about his words makes me feel defensive. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, as if to protect myself. It does not work.

"He had good reason not to trust Gil-Galad," I protest.

"No," Glofindel shook his head, " He had good reason not to trust those who had gone before him, Gil-Galad had done him no wrong. Keep your eyes open Legolas and see others for who they truly are and you will go far. It is a lesson I am still learning."

I say nothing in reply for I am thinking, his words hit home. I remember Aragorn's suggestion I can be just as prejudiced as those I complain about. Could he be right?

"Anyway," Glorfindel startles me out of my reverie, "enough of this dreary talk, tell me of your home and your people, child, for I promise you I am genuine in my interest."

And so I do. I tell him of my wood, my place of sanctuary, the people I love, the home I may never see again, and it comforts me to speak of it.

When I am done he begins to tell me of Gondolin, a place of legend, gone long before my birth. And then he goes on to stories of those who went before us, heroes and legends, some of them those I have been taught to despise, but as he spins his tales I can hardly recognise them. His stories are riveting and as we sit under the stars, the night passes. It is not the night I planned on having but, as nights before departing on a quest that is likely to kill you go, it is a good one.

We leave at dawn, as the first rays of the sun crest the horizon. The leave taking seems endless and tedious to me, who has no one to leave-take from. I am full of nervous energy and eager to be on our way, standing still is an impossibility although I know my fidgeting annoys all those around me.

In the end, to my relief, Gandalf has had enough of the somber goodbyes.

"Let us be off," he cries in annoyance, and so we are.

Aragorn turns from his place near the front for one last look back, at the Evenstar I imagine, and as he does so one of the early shafts of light catches his hair, his head, and surrounds him with a glow...a halo...a crown. I catch my breath at the sight of it.

"You see it too." Glorfindel murmers from behind me,

"An omen, I think. He will be King, and a good one."

"I see it." I reply, "and I will do my part in it."

"I will see you at the end of this then Legolas," Glorfindel gives me a pat on my shoulder.

"Perhaps." I am not as convinced as he, for the omen is for Aragorn, not myself, for myself I feel only unease.

"And if I see your Father before you, I will tell him he can be proud." he continues,

"You will do well Legolas."

And then, as a last whisper in my ear,

"Just stay away from the dwarf."

It takes me so much by surprise that a bright surge of laughter bursts from me, fragmenting the serious, heavy atmosphere that surrounds us. Gandalf swings around and glares at me in reproach and Aragorn, he stares, eyes wide with surprise when he sees who it is I joke with. The look on his face makes me laugh all the louder.

And so it is with joy that I depart that place, and take my first steps wherever the road may take me.

And I can only hope, against all hope, that with joy, one day, I will return.


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note: This is my entry for April Teitho for the prompt "Waiting" where it placed 3rd. I was writing it at the same time as this story so it kind of ended up being the closing chapter and I have deciced to publish it here rather than on it's own!**

" _We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend."_

 _― Robert Louis Stevenson_

Elves see time differently from the rest of us.

I have decided this during these long days of waiting in Lothlorien. We have tarried here longer than we should, I know it, and yet I cannot remember exactly how long we have been here. The time stretches out endlessly and the elves meander their way through it.

Aragorn seems unfazed by this, he is unconcerned by the wasted days. Perhaps because of the years he has spent in Imladris he is used to this dawdling of time. The hobbits are happy, they are glad for some respite I think, relieved to be off the road. It is only Boromir and I who chafe at the enforced rest. Day after day we complain, Boromir more loudly than myself, but it gets us nowhere. We are forced to sit idly by.

There is one more of our company of course, Legolas, but he has abandoned us. Of him we see little sign. He comes and goes, that is true, nodding to Aragorn as he does so, but he stays with us so infrequently I almost forget he is one of us. So fickle is his elven heart, so quick to walk away. I suppose this long time waiting does not bother him, he spends his days playing with his newfound friends, but what of us? I do not know why I expected any different, he is an elf of course, and they cannot be relied on.

That is why I am surprised to see him waiting for me when I return from my breakfast. At first I assume it is not me he wants, why would it be?

"Aragorn will be here shortly." I say curtly, I am not in the mood for pleasantries, especially with an elf as flighty as he.

But he does not even blink.

"It was not him I was waiting for." he says, "It was you."

"Why would you wait for me? What business could we possibly have together?" I think it is a fair question. Even before this tedious elven delay we have not been friends, have not sought out each other's company. We tolerate each other for the sake of our fellow travelers, it is a necessary evil we must bear for the greater good.

"I thought you might accompany me," He replies and though I wait for some elaboration there is none.

"Accompany you where?" Eventually I am forced to ask the question myself.

He looks at me quizzically then, head tilted to one side as if he finds me strange.

"To where ever we might go of course," he says and I see I will get no sense out of him at all, so I sigh heavily and give up. Perhaps a stroll, no matter how unpleasant the company, might help the day go quicker.

"If I come with you now will you then leave me alone?" I grumble, it would not do to be seen to give in too easily and he gives me yet another of those strange looks.

"Well, yes, there would be no reason to do otherwise then."

He dismisses my complaints and doesn't wait for me to make more. He is off instead towards the forest, up into the trees. I presume he thinks I follow but I have no chance of following him when he is up so high. I know he is there but I cannot see him.

"You will have to come down Elf," I call, "I cannot see you and I have no intention of climbing trees to follow you. Do you want me on this walk of yours or not, because I have other things I would rather do."

The leaves rustle slightly and the branches part in front of me, then with barely a murmer he drops from the trees above my head, landing softly in front of me.

"You wish me to walk on the ground?" he asks me, as if it was not self evident and I begin to wonder, not for the first time, at his intelligence.

"Of course I wish you to walk on the ground, as any other normal mortal would."

"I am not mortal."

"But you can walk!" I snap. We have been only a few steps and already I am regretting agreeing to this escapade.

He turns his back to me and strides off without answering, but at least he stays with his feet on the floor. I will take that as a victory even though I must hurry to keep up with him. This is the strangest walk I have ever been on.

"Legolas!" I call to him when I have been struggling through the forest for what seems like an age, although who can know in the midst of the warped, sluggish movement of time these beings live in. I do know I am sick of this and he ignores me, we have not spoken a word in hours. My patience is at an end.

"Legolas, where exactly are we going? why do you ask me here? I am sick of walking when I do not know where it is we go."

He turns then and looks almost surprised to see me, had he forgotten he had invited me? He is so strange, so alien, I do not know how to begin to understand him. I do not know why I would want to understand him, I remind myself, he is nothing to me after all, just another elf.

"Forgive me." He says suddenly, "I was lost in my thoughts. We can stop here. It will do well enough."

"Do well enough for what?"

He does not answer me but instead pulls himself up onto a branch near my head so he is looking down upon me. It is most disconcerting.

"Must you do that?" I complain, and I wonder what it is about him that makes me always so intolerant. Why must I let him annoy me so?

He ignores me, as he so often does and continues instead with his own agenda, whatever that may be.

"Shall I leave?" He asks abruptly and I do not understand him.

"We have only just got here, you have made me walk all this way for no good reason, why then would you leave?"

"I did not mean that," he shakes his head in frustration and drops his voice low,

"Shall I leave the fellowship, that is what I mean."

I am horrified. At first I think I must have misheard him but I know I have not. He thinks to leave us? Our journey is only just begun and he would walk away? I know we have come as far as we swore to, he and I, but I did not ever truly think he would desert us.

"You are really that shallow, that fickle?" I cry, "You would leave us behind? Abandon us to our fates?"

He hangs his head in shame and I am not surprised. He should feel ashamed.

"I have nothing to offer." he says eventually, so quietly I have to strain to hear him.

"If that is all you can come up with to excuse your cowardice you should try harder!" I shout the words at him with bitterness for I am angry, not for myself but for the betrayal of my companions.

"I make no excuses," his voice is so soft, so filled with grief, "I have failed, I failed Gandalf."

"We all failed Gandalf. Why do you think you should get special mention?"

I do not want to think of Gandalf for I know all too well I was an accomplice in his death. I do not need the elf to remind me of that fact. Faced with that hideous creature of fire I was terrified and I did nothing...nothing. I know too, it was I who pushed for Moria, Gandalf did not want it. They all have suffered because of my pride. But it seems the elf is too consumed with his own failings to consider mine.

"I dropped my bow," he whispers. There are tears hovering in his eyes but he does not shed them, and I realise, perhaps too late, that he has anguished over this.

"It does not matter, Legolas, there was nothing you could have done against...that... There was nothing any of us could have done."

I seek clumsily to ease his burden but I fear I am not successful. I do not know why I care, why should it matter to me that he is unhappy? Because he should not take the blame for your mistakes, my conscience whispers to me, because you are perhaps more guilty in this than he.

He takes a shuddering breath and I watch as he struggles to keep his control.

"They argued over my inclusion in Imladris, do you know that?" he says in the end, quite matter of factly. "There were others more deserving than I who should have represented the elves. They thought me too young, too uneducated, too wild."

I had not known that, had not known he was not a unanimous choice, although I have wondered, why him? Why Thranduil's son? It has seemed, at times, they chose him simply to spite me.

"I have proved them right." The elf interrupts my thoughts as he continues,

"They should have sent Glorfindel! He would not have quailed before a Balrog. He would have done something and I should at least have tried! Others have, before me. Great elves, illustrious elves, elves of legend. If I leave now there will be someone here who can take my place, someone who would be better for the fellowship than I."

"You are too hard on yourself Legolas." I wonder then, is this what he has been doing all this time here, brooding on this? Is this why he isolates himself from us?

"You need to speak to Aragorn about this," I say determinedly, for I think it is an inspired solution. "He will help you see sense."

Aragorn is wise when it comes to listening, to dealing with others troubles, this I have noticed. He will be able to soothe the elfs worries and convince him of his worth. Why he speaks to me, I do not know for I have no idea how to help him.

But Legolas shakes his head sadly

"Not Aragorn, he will not tell me the truth." He looks at me solemnly, his beautiful face grave. "He will seek to spare my feelings, he will not wish to hurt me. He would never tell me to step aside even though he might wish I was not here. That is why I have asked you, because you will be honest. You have no reason to protect me...I know you do not like me."

He has asked me here, asked me to walk with him, to listen to this because he believes I despise him, because he believes I will not try to make him stay for politeness sake, because he thinks I will have no hesitation in telling him all his shortcomings if there are any. That realization stops me in my tracks.

Is he right? Do I dislike him?

"I need you to tell me Gimli," he says finally, and I think it is the first time I have heard my name from his lips, "Would the Fellowship be safer without me? Should I step aside for a better choice?"

I stare at him then, huddled on his branch, arms around his knees as his chin rests atop of them. He looks miserable and oh so young. He believes he has nothing to offer us. Is that true?

I think back upon our time on the road, his lightness, his positivity, the brilliance of his smile, his strength when we have needed it, I picture him running on top of the snow, on that cursed mountain, and I think of the courage that he, himself, cannot see. The courage that has bought him out here, with one he thinks is against him, to hear in detail of his failures.

If he thinks he has nothing to offer us, he is wrong.

Still he looks at me and he awaits an answer. That answer when it comes to me is not the one I expected when I began this walk.

"Legolas, I would much rather go forward from here with you by my side, than not. No matter how illustrious your replacement."

He is astonished. His face awash with surprise, and that surprise is nothing compared to my own when I realise what I have just said is true.

I do not want him to go.

"You think I should stay?" He does not believe his ears, why should he. Have I ever said anything to him that was not an insult?

"I think you should stay. I think you will have chances aplenty to prove yourself worthy and I do not doubt you will face them with courage. I have no fears for my safety with you at my back. Let us return to the others, for you have been too long apart from us. Come back with me now."

I hold out my hand to help him down. He does not need my help of course. He can leap nimbly from that branch, it is child's play for him and I know it. But I hold out my hand in any case, I hold it out in friendship, because I think he needs it and for some strange reason, I find I want to give it.

And without hesitation he takes it.


End file.
